Don't Give Into Him
by explicitlyboyblue
Summary: Was it really necessary to uphold a gentlemanly status? To hold out and to forego desires? How will it ultimately feel if you decide against anything of the sort? Sometimes you have to skirt around the rules to do what you desire, otherwise, what's the point to anything?


Countless times he has told himself that he should not be tempted by bodily desires, lest he become slave to them. He convinced himself that a true gentleman withholds his carnal needs, no matter what given situation. Of course he can make a few exceptions from time to time.  
You see, it was also a gentlemanly duty to willingly oblige for others when asked.

Ever since the day she left this earth, Hershel Layton never really got to experience desires for the flesh. But that's not to say that he hasn't acted upon his fantasies when she was still alive. Her name was Claire and he loved her so. He loved her and respected her, thus it was reasonable to say that he would reserve himself for no one else. Layton can recount how many times he reacted physically and appropriately to their "advances" on one hand. He _was_ supposed to be a gentleman after all. But ever since the day of her death, Layton didn't really have thoughts like that anymore.

That is, until a young man walked into his life.

Clive Dove was this young man's name. Layton decided to take him under his care ever since the release from prison. Clive had nowhere else to go, finding places to live with the word "ex-convict" under your name was certainly difficult enough and he had no other living family members left. Layton could always use more company around anyway. Luke was off in America and Flora was well off in boarding school at this point; it stands to reason that Layton would want someone different around in his home.

You can definitely say that the household held a different sort of tension in the air. Layton found himself paying attention to this young thing more than the two children who previously spent a lot more time with him. Needless to say, the gentleman started to pay lots of attention to Clive in several ways. Some more appropriate than others.

When he came to live with Layton, he noticed that Clive held a headstrong air about him. The way he spoke, the way he carried himself, the way he understood situations, the way he battled wits, all of that and more struck a chord in Layton that he didn't feel with either Luke or Flora. However, it never went farther than a feeling of pride in the boy.

Layton never conceived of any other thought beyond pride, yet Clive would somehow change that little by little.

It could have been those small, fleeting looks Layton got every once in a while. The way Clive's dark eyes would dart to him and back, hoping that the older gentleman wouldn't notice. It also could have been the subtle touches and brushes that would send a little jolt up Layton's spine every time Clive took a hold of his sleeve or lightly grasp his shoulder. Or maybe it was just the way he presented himself to Layton alone. Observantly, Layton noticed the small changes Clive would make to his attitude towards others, as opposed to him. Clive would sometimes saunter around rather than walk in his usual brisk pace, putting more thought into the way he moves. Clive most certainly shows more control and awareness of his body, swaying his hips just like so, or taking advantage of the fact that if he angled his sharp, yet smoothly sloping shoulders just a certain way, Layton would most likely look at him longer than he should have.  
These observances surrounded sentimental meanings more, rather than pure aesthetic qualities that are a little more pleasing to the eyes.

Either way, Clive continued to quietly and subtlety entice the professor into his favour, all the while pretending as if he wasn't doing anything at all.

The clock chimed half past eleven in the evening, signaling to Clive that it was time to duck under his covers for the night.

With a yawn, he sat up from his chair and looked toward the professor, "Well, I think it's time for me to retire for the night. Don't stay up too late? I know how much you need rest to educate those young minds in Gressenheller. It won't do if the professor is equally as tired as his students, right?"

Chuckling softly, the man in question replied with a smile, "How right you are Clive. Well, thank you for being so concerned for me my boy. I'll be sure to get this old body of mine to bed as soon as I finish reviewing this paper. I'll see you in the morning, so good night."

"Good night to you too professor," the boy yawned out. Quietly shutting the door behind him, he made his way down the hall to his cozy little room, adjacent to the professor's. Slipping into his nightwear and climbing into bed, Clive comfortably fell asleep.

_The dead of night filtered though the small window, draping his figure in shadows and moonlight. Shifting during his peaceful sleep, he can unconsciously feel hands rake over his body enticingly. It seems that he has an intruder in the midst of his dreams. A very handsy one at that. _  
_Shuddering from the fingers dipping into the soft slopes of his body, traveling over expanses of smooth skin, he curled his toes with delight, dreamily relishing in those increasingly greedy touches. The warm hands glide over him with feather-like caresses, leaving gentle trails of fire to add to the night pleasure. His face flushed and was dampened steadily by sweat, dreaming of those loving and worshipping hands._

_"A-ah..."_

_He maneuvered under his covers, hands moving down past the waistband of his pants, slowly grasping himself. Still dreaming, he can just feel those hands take hold of him and working up and down, up and down, with languid motions. His breathing became heavy as his hands began to work uncontrollably, imagining /him/ taking complete possession of his body._

_"M-mmnph...!"_

_He can certainly feel one of those hands drifting elsewhere, lower and lower until smooth, large fingers began to press against him. The dreamy pleasure was maddening and the man started to tremble under his covers. Those imaginary fingers pressed further and started to slide and rub and stretch until he breathlessly called out this dream invader's name excitedly._

_"Oh, L-Layton!"_

_He started to work furiously at himself, waiting impatiently for that special shock of pleasure to dart up his spine. But just as he dreamt of __**him**__ calling out his name and just as he was ready to be "invaded", the man awoke with a loud gasp; the over spilling pleasure jolting him awake, cutting off the incomplete dream. He sat up, panting and staring at the undeniably messy work he had done._

Well that was embarrassing. And just as he was about to get to the good part.

He had to get up and clean himself off quickly before getting discovered.  
This wouldn't be the first time this has happened. Clive wasn't really aware of it at the time, all he knew was that these dreams probably started after he moved in with the professor. After embarrassingly pattering around to get into another change of clothes, he hopes that the object of his affections didn't hear from the adjacent room.

But as faith would have it, the professor wasn't exactly a stranger to Clive's nighttime... Activities. It was strange how Clive had this odd talent to get off to the professor (quite loudly he might add) right before he was about to turn in for the night.

It was a good thing that the professor wasn't one who so easily succumbed to desires.

Maybe.


End file.
